


polished

by wenandwhere



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Feelings Realization, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 18:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenandwhere/pseuds/wenandwhere
Summary: So that was the moment when Brian felt a small jolt. Like, you have 3 seconds to choose this dialogue option before it disappears and that path is closed. And that's not a lot of time to consider hows or whys before he heard himself asking, "Do you want me to paint your nails?"





	polished

**Author's Note:**

> 8/5 i need to edit this yikes please don't read it lol

So... they're holding hands, but there's a _reason_. And anyway it's not like _they're_ holding hands, Brian thinks to himself, mind moving a mile a minute. Brian is holding Pat's hand steady, other hand painting precisely, his movements meticulous, concentrating like he's building a ship in a bottle. 

This wasn't the plan. There wasn't any plan! Well, not a plan like this, just a normal Saturday hang out plan, insofar as that's really... a plan...

They're hanging out at Brian's to play games together, but Brian realized that he was already several minutes into picking at the tiny chip in the polish on one of his fingernails and at this point most of them are chipped and felt the very real and immediate need to repaint them.

And he'd leapt off the couch with a, "Sorry," and, "I've gotta do this now or it's gonna drive me crazy."

And without asking for explanation, Pat had called after him, "Want me to switch to something single player?"

And over the clacking of all the nail polish bottles he was scooping up, Brian had called back, "Sure, you can choose."

And he'd jumped back onto the couch over the arm of it and set to considering his options before settling on a pale gold without soliciting any input.

And they'd fallen into easy banter, Laura joining briefly when she came out of her room to root through the fridge before retreating again, while Brian undertook the ritual of removing and replacing the old blue polish.

And it was a normal day. No pretense.

But then Pat paused the game and got up to grab another beer and said, "I'm impressed that you can do that without getting it all over your hands."

"Oh, it took some practice," Brian laughed. "I used to have to touch them up a lot more."

Pat sat on the couch and leaned over to pick up a mostly green bottle of nail polish and admire the way the colors came together while giving it a shake. "I tried it a couple times when I was younger," he mentioned offhand, "But I couldn't color inside the lines. It just looked like I'd been finger painting."

So that was the moment when Brian felt a small jolt. Like, you have 3 seconds to choose this dialogue option before it disappears and that path is closed. And that's not a lot of time to consider hows or whys before he heard himself asking, "Do you want me to paint your nails?"

Pat hummed and pursed his lips in thought, eyeing the bottle he'd been holding and twisting it by its cap before he chirped a decisive, "Sure! But not this one."

Brian tested all his own nails to make sure they were dry enough for this and to distract himself from the unexpected jittery energy starting to bubble up and the threats of self-examining questions like, _'What the fuck was that?'_ and, _'Yeah, what the fuck?'_

He's self-aware enough to know he's kind of into Pat, but he hasn't felt the need to really think about it. Like, they're coworkers and they've become good friends and that's all he's seriously thought about wanting at this point. Not every crush is worth acting on and it's not like he's lost sleep over this one.

While Pat was picking out colors he took the liberty of grabbing the controller and moving to a level with some good background music so he could at least do something with his hands.

An explosive burst of laughter brought him back out of his own head only for Pat to recover immediately and deadpan, "Yes I'd like the Booties on Broadway please," as though ordering lunch, holding up a dark blue bottle.

"Yeah, some of the names are a little out there," Brian agreed with an indulgent laugh and turned to sit facing Pat, taking the bottle from him and shaking it like ringing a bell while he sing-songed, "Ready~?"

Pat held out his right hand like he's royalty ready to be admired and said, "Paint me like one of your French girls," with a lopsided grin.

So Brian took his hand, suddenly all to aware of the sound of his own pulse and the warmth of Pat's skin and the need to keep his composure so he doesn't paint a line straight down his arm and give up the fact that he's having a small, private crisis over something very casual.

And that's how he got into this mess. Which isn't really a mess! Because nothing unusual is happening!!

"I'm doing a base coat first, if I don't it could stain. I haven't painted someone else's nails in a long time," Brian says contemplatively, partly to cover his ass in case he does a terrible job.

"Oh yeah? When did you used to?" Pat asks. He's being very helpful, not fidgeting or twitching or leaning in too close to whisper a hot breath into Brian's ear.

"When I did theatre. Sometimes for shows and sometimes we were just bored backstage. One time I didn't have time to let mine dry all the way before I had to go on and I was so distracted trying not to smear them on anything I held my hands out really awkwardly. I got a lot of shit for that. Other hand now."

That's the thing of it that's really getting to him, he thinks. Not very long ago at all, this was a super normal occurrence. Sure, he's keyed up right now because it's Pat, but he thinks it would feel unusual to be painting anyone else's nails right now, to be holding anyone's hand so that he can move and twist it at will. He hadn't really realized how much smaller his circle of People With Whom Casual Physical Contact Is Normal had become until just now. 

It's not like he's touch-starved, but maybe he's a bit peckish.

For the most part, Brian is pretty proud of himself. His hands don't get too sweaty and he keeps up with casual banter and occasional explanations and doesn't get too into his own head and, honestly? He's doing a pretty damn good job with the nail painting. Everything's looking nice and even as he cycles his way through one hand, then the other, then playing the game for a few minutes, then another layer until it's time for the topcoat and he falters.

Now it's all going to be over very, very soon and there's no way to draw it out and there is _so much_ that he is trying to dam up in his mind for the time being. So Brian makes a deal with himself: he's going to allow his thoughts one hand's worth of free reign before this all gets put aside to assess later when he's alone and doesn't have all of this energy and these _feelings_ buzzing right below the surface of his skin.

Thumb.

_It would feel good, smoothing his fingers back and forth over Pat's nails like a worry stone._

Pointer.

_If Pat ever tried to do his nails in return he'd probably melt under the intense focus of his care as he tried so hard not to fuck it up._

Middle.

_The guilty thrill of the thought of being presumptuous enough to buy new colors specifically for Pat._

Ring.

_An unexpected ache at the thought of coordinating colors, fingers laced together walking out from dinner some evening._

Pinky.

_The shock of color only half visible on a nail digging hard into flesh-_

"Done!" He shouts just this side of too-loud. "It's quick-drying stuff but you should still give it some time to dry."

"This is badass," Pat says with an audible grin, holding up his hands to admire them in the light, splaying his fingers unnecessarily wide out of caution. "Honestly I was thinking I'd probably take it off before work on Monday but I think I'm gonna rock this for a while."

Brian files away the way his heart swells as yet another item on the self-examination list for later. For now, he preens with a confident, "What can I say, I do good work. Just give me a call when you think you're ready for..."

He trails off and picks up the green bottle Pat had been looking at earlier, glancing at the bottom of it and then making eye contact and waggling his eyebrows, "Naughty Nautical."

He's also going to have to spend some time thinking about how proud he is that he can make Pat laugh this hard.


End file.
